


Skin.txt

by savaxth



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluffy Ending, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 03:55:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9217664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savaxth/pseuds/savaxth
Summary: “I would’ve bought a hawaiian one, that’s my favourite topping. But you know, not everybody likes pineapple in their pizza so I bought a simple one”“I’m fine with whatever you want,” he shrugged his shoulders, but he was relieved. Yuri fucking hates hawaiian pizza.In which Yuri and Otabek befriend each other and grow closer and eat pizza, lots of pizza.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello~  
> This is my first proper oneshot ever so like, big deal you know.  
> It hasn't been beta'd yet so bare with the errors please and thank you.  
> Down below are more notes so yeah, see ya soon~

_ "Let's talk about the revelation, it's 15 year old Yuri Plisetsky's first Senior Grand Prix Final and he already broke a record, and it's nothing more or less than living-legend Viktor Nikiforov's short program score. That kid is going places." _

_ "Let's see if he breaks another record, he has all the chances to be the youngest male skater to win the gold in this Senior Grand Prix Final." _

 

\---

 

Pressure. He's been searching for years to be in the place he is now, but he couldn't take the pressure anymore. He wonders who gives a shit about being the best? Who cares if he is or isn't better than Victor Nikiforov? Everyone but him. He was wrong, he didn’t need to become more than what he could be. It’s overwhelming, it chokes him down a sea of helplessness, he is losing himself over the image people started to get of him.

But again, who was he in the first place? All his life he's been just a wannabe. He wanted to be better, stronger; he wanted to be the very best, to even go beyond his limits. He wanted to be famous, rich, loved. But how could he be loved when he didn't love himself? Always lost on where he should go, what he should do. He only wanted, more and more, more than he could take. And he couldn't take this anymore-

 

\---

 

_ "We are in front of the future of Russia, a  _ monster _ , a new living legend. We're more than ecstatic to see what he's going to do on his free skate program. Will he break another record?" _

 

\---

 

Monster, what a perfect word to describe him. He now was a distorted version of who he aspired to be when he was a child learning how to not fall to the ice while performing a back scratch spin. Little Yuratchka wanted to be great at skating, he wanted to have friends, and he wanted to feel happy again.

Happiness became a weird concept that was only real in fiction overtime. When was the last time he felt truly happy? He only felt little imperceptible glimpses of contentedness, while the bitterness of wanting to be better stung deep in his heart. Some of the glimpses were smaller, some of them were bigger, like that one time. Agape.

 

\---

 

Back in the hotel room, Yuri was looking at himself on the mirror, thinking about everything and nothing at all, as always. He was analyzing his body, how beautifully rotten it became after months of being Lilia’s puppet.  _ “If selling my soul is what it takes to win, I’ll give you this body, no holds barred” _ , he remembers telling her.

He didn’t mean it. It was all pretend, everything was all pretend. He was only looking for someone to want to take care of him, someone to stop him. That someone never came. Everybody wanted to exploit him, to shape him to their will, and he let them do so. He was but a mere thing to mold and shape and break and fix, just to be broken again. His body is irrevocably damaged. Bruises, cuts and bandages everywhere. His feet felt like absolute shit, they were sore and numb from today’s performance.

He knew he went over the edge with the difficulty on his Agape, but he couldn’t stop himself. He started skating and for a moment, he felt free. He felt as if Agape was possessing his body, taking control of his whole self, he had sold his soul to win. He couldn’t control his movements, the only thing he saw was Agape in its truest form. But Agape didn’t look like an angel or a woman or anything near human; Agape had a mysterious semblance he still couldn't put his finger on.

Would Little Yuratchka feel proud of Yuri Plisetsky? He was in a hotel room in the middle of Barcelona, alone. While everybody were hanging out with their friends, grabbing dinner somewhere in the city, he was alone. He felt the desolation freeze his already cold blood. He didn’t feel like fifteen years old, not because of his damaged body: the wounds can heal. He felt older  — way older — ,  a huge amount of weight over his shoulders. He was done with this: he didn’t want to become this caricature of an angsty, reckless salty teenage boy. Anything but this. 

There was a knock on the door, Yuri was petrified. Who could it be? He didn’t want to see anyone.

 

His loneliness had turned him into a hermit; he got so used to being alone that the mere presence of someone else nauseates him. He pushed everybody away in hopes that someone would stick to his side. No one stuck to his side, ever. His anxiety was enclosed within layers of coldness. But this evening he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering.

People came and went in his life as easy as the water from the sink gliding through his fingers. The people who surrounded him were there temporally, they stuck to his side because they needed something from him or feared him. He could have just tried to make them stay by his side, but he hated to be clingy. If only he could swallow his pride. He knew that doing so wasn’t going to kill him. His pride was not poison, but sometimes it felt like it. He was numb, soul and body and heart. Another knock on the door, he felt sick on his stomach. He knew anyone who would come to his life would  — sooner or later — disappear just as the light from the bathroom did when he turned it off. Yuri came to the conclusion that he didn’t remember his mother’s face anymore.

 

Yuri lied on the bed in his underwear, trying to find the strength to put on clothes to hide his small and destroyed body. But truly, he was trying to find the strength to put on his cold semblance again, to hide his small and destroyed soul.

He’d been feeling like this since he was old enough to remember anything, since his mother abandoned him. At first he repressed it and pushed it way down into his unconsciousness. He didn’t allow himself to feel miserable, not even when he was alone.

 

He got up and put on a lazy pajama bottom. He didn’t even care about his bare chest, filled with bruises in every colour possible from falling to the ice while practicing. He wanted to open the door and kick whoever was bothering him out. He opened the door and prepared his leg...

“Yuri, I grabbed pizza and I wanted to know if you’d like to share it.”

_ Fuck. _

“Otabek what are you doing here?” Yuri looked startled “Go back to your room! I’m trying to rest.”

“Told you, I grabbed pizza, do you want or not?”

“Whatever.”

Yuri went back to his room but left the door a little bit open. Maybe he didn’t push the door enough to close it on purpose, or maybe he was so tired he couldn’t even close a simple lightweight door. 

“I don’t know if you are lactose intolerant.” Otabek followed him into the room, pizza in hand. “Maybe this was a bad idea. You know, cheese.” He sat next to Yuri and opened the box to reveal a pepperoni pizza. Apparently Otabek went to the classic option and didn’t want to risk a topping Yuri wouldn’t like. The smell filled the room and Yuri’s stomach rumbled a bit, but neither of them took a slice. “I would’ve bought a hawaiian one, that’s my favourite topping. But you know, not everybody likes pineapple in their pizza so I bought a simple one”

“I’m fine with whatever you want ,”  he shrugged his shoulders, but he was relieved. Yuri fucking hates hawaiian pizza.

“Alright, what I want is for you to stop being so cold with me, aren’t we friends?”

“Friends? What are friends? They don’t exist.” Yuri was railing about on and on. “You probably are talking to me because you need something. What is it?” 

Otabek was still for a moment with a confused look on his face. Then his eyes went up and down Yuri’s bared chest and his brow furrowed just a little bit. Yuri blushed as he followed Otabek’s eyes.

“Yuri, your body is a mess,” he said instead of answering the question.

“I don’t care, you don’t care, no one cares. I’m just a little monster, the Ice Tiger of Russia, the new living legend, the — ”

“Don’t whine,” he said calmly. It didn’t sound like an order but as a plead. Otabek grabbed Yuri by the shoulders. His touch was firm but gentle, Yuri seemed to be about to fall down to the floor. ”Come here. Let me check your feet, they look disastrous.”

“Otabek, no.”

“Please.” His eyes were on Yuri’s, they were so intense Yuri had to look away. He wasn’t able to find his voice, the weight of Otabek’s gaze had him speechless so he nodded slightly, just enough for him to notice.

Otabek proceeded to put Yuri’s feet on his lap and started to study them. The bruises were clearly there, contrasting against the pearl white skin. Yuri got goosebumps at the touch of his warm fingers against the cold skin. He had blisters here and there  — probably from the friction of skating all day long.

“You may call me Ota” Otabek said calmly, he was searching for a coolant spray —every skater had one in their room. “If you’d like. Although, no one has ever called me different than by my full name.”

“Hmm.” Yuri raised his eyes to the ceiling.

“You’re my friend,” said the black haired boy, smiling, while looking on the floor for the can, pupils going back and forth. The place was a mess, just as Yuri’s mind, “you should come up with a special name, right?”

“Ota is a shitty name,” Yuri stated bluntly. 

“Yeah, I guess.” His eyes came to a stop. Whether it was because he had found the can or what Yuri had just said, Yuri didn’t know. He looked at how Otabek’s hair fell over his face casting a mysterious shadow over his eyes. Otabek slowly reached for the can on the floor —it was under a cat hat a fan had thrown at him after his performance and it had fallen on the floor and Yuri couldn’t be bothered to pick up— and started to read the label. 

“Beka sounds better.” Yuri said not looking at him in the eye, although he was ecstatic about what was going to be Otabek’s reaction to that name. It sounded lame, but at the end of it all, this friendship was lame.

Friendship, that was new to him. It never ocurred in his mind that he could ever have a friend. He had just met Otabek the day before and he already knew how not to bring the worst of him. Yuri felt comfortable around his relaxed presence, which was weird considering that the only person he knows who doesn’t make him want to stab people in the face is his gramps. He grabbed a slice of pizza.

“Mmm,” Yuri tasted the pizza “It’s good!”

“Beka…” Otabek repeated, grinning slightly .  Yuri’s heart skipped a beat “okay. Let me help you with this mess.”

And so he started to spray the can onto Yuri’s skin; it relieved the pain instantly, maybe because of its coldness, or maybe because it was Otabek  — Beka.

 

They spent the evening eating pizza, attending Yuri’s wounds, and talking about the other competitors and life in general. Beka found out about Yuri’s real name, and laughed for ten straight minutes before Yuri got pissed and kindly beated him. Classic but not-so-classic Yuri.

“So Yuratchka, what is your favourite movie?”

“Fuck you” he said, pissed “I shouldn’t have told you that. And I don’t watch movies, so I don’t know. I think the last one I saw was Finding something” Yuri was trying to remember the whole name, but his mind was a mess. “Memo? Vevo?”

“Nemo,” Otabek corrected him.

“Yeah, the one with the fishes.”

They stood in silence. Otabek looking at Yuri brushing loosely his golden locks of hair with his fingers, Yuri was trying to not look desperate for inattention. Suddenly, it was too much for him, he wasn’t used to people to actually want to spend time with him. He started to feel sick. Maybe it was the pizza, or maybe it was the way Otabek was looking at him, as if he was searching for something. Yuri couldn’t stop thinking about Agape.

“What do you like to do on your free time?” Otabek asked as he was stretching his arms, it was getting late. “I ride my bike, it’s relaxing.”

Yuri didn’t recall a moment of his life in which he felt he could do something else than better himself. He was always stressed, always thinking about the programs, always thinking about the perfect posture, the perfect hand placement, the perfect way to tell someone to fuck off.

“I don’t know” the blond said reluctantly. “I guess I spend it with my cats.”

“Oh, you have cats? I’ve always wanted one.”

“Yeah, I have a couple ones.”

“How many?”

“Like, six?”

“Six? That’s a lot.”

“Yeah, but only one of them lives with me. The rest are homeless ones.”

Truth is Yuri used to have more cats back at Moscow. Some of them were from the streets and he couldn’t bring them home, so in his way to practice he used to bring them food every possible day. Yuri’s family wasn’t  — and still isn’t — the wealthiest, and sometimes they couldn’t have a proper meal. So Yuri had to be content with helping the cats with whatever little amount of food he could give to them. He hated to see them cold and hungry. They were little fighters, just like him, so he protected them as much as possible.

“See, my chart of  _ How many cats are Too Many Cats,”  _ Otabek was motioning an invisible billboard, “says that over four cats per capita are Too Many Cats,” he said, while making a chart with his arms “and you have Too Many Cats.” 

“What can I say?” Yuri shrugged “I am a cat person.”

“Me too.” They both got silent for a moment. “And what about your family? Do you have siblings?”

“Well...” Yuri got lightheaded, that question struck a chord on him, “there’s my gramps.”

Yuri went silent, because there is nothing more to say about his family. The only person who he’s ever known was his gramps, he was the only one who stuck by his side.

“What about your parents?” Otabek asked while still looking at Yuri with his particular semblance. Yuri felt a sting on his chest.

“I don’t have parents, never met them,” he said. He didn’t want to explain the whole story because it was too complicated, and too personal. He wasn’t ready yet. “I have my gramps and that’s all that have ever been and will ever be.”

“Oh,” Otabek showed a glimpse of regret. “I’m really sorry.” 

“Nah, it’s fine. My gramps is the best, he makes the best pirozhki you’ll ever taste in your life. And he’s always supported me on my journey to where I am now, so there’s that.”

“Will I ever try that famous pirozhki?” Otabek asked. Yuri started to get nervous, why couldn’t he focus on something else other than Agape?

“Why not? We’d have to go to Moscow, but yes, you’ll try them one day.”

Yuri couldn’t believe he had just invited someone to his home, as easy as it was.

 

\---

 

Yuri had stopped thinking about the pressure, about the loneliness; he was fine. He was laughing and joking with a friend. A  _ friend _ , his first one ever. The first person who pushed enough to get to know him at least a little. This was the Yuri he had lost a long time ago, this Yuri could joke around and laugh, this Yuri smiled and let himself be taken care of.

Suddenly he wanted to hug Otabek,  _ Beka _ , and just enjoy the moment. He didn’t care if he got even more hurt, if his bruises got even darker, he wanted to do something he’s never done with anyone else. He couldn’t maintain his hands to himself, so he started brushing his hair again instead.

“I really dig your hair. Can I touch it?”

“Do you-” Yuri was shocked “you like my hair?”

“Yes, it looks beautiful. I bet you can make a lot of braids with it, it must be fun.”

“Well, yes you can.” Yuri said, while starting a braid “I was thinking about cutting it, you know, it's kind of uncomfortable on the eye area. I can’t see shit.”

Otabek chuckled, and it sounded magical. The kind of shy and silent laughter that melted your heart. Agape was in the front of Yuri’s mind and he was losing his calm. “Don’t cut it, leave it like it is. It’s beautiful. Also, people will be able to see how adorable you actually look if you show your full face to the world.”

Yuri groaned.

“Ice Tiger of Russia more like Smol Kitten of Russia.” Otabek joked while messing with Yuri’s hair. But Yuri didn’t hear it as a joke, he felt insulted. He was tired of people saying how fragile-like he looked, how feminine and delicate he seemed. He was just tired of people dismissing him constantly. Yuri thought that Otabek wouldn’t say a thing like this. Just the day before, Otabek told Yuri that he saw him as a soldier. But now he was talking bullshit just as everybody else did.

Otabek must have seen Yuri’s expression of discomfort, because he redeemed himself: “I’m kidding, you’re obviously not adorable.”

“Shut the fuck up, I am adorable.” spitted Yuri, feeling relieved. “But like, strong adorable, not fragile adorable.”

“Whatever. Just don’t cut your hair, it looks good like this.”

 

So Otabek started stroking his hair, and Yuri lost it. He hugged his friend as tight as possible, choking back tears. This feeling was amazing, it was pure and fun and crystal clear. It was Agape in its truest form. This was what he’s been searching for months, this was what took control of his body earlier that day. He couldn’t breathe. Yuri was shocked, he was sharing a good time with a good person. He was happy, and not even one glimpse of bitterness took up his heart. He was smiling wide and laughing.

Otabek hugged back, tight, but not as tight as Yuri. Otabek didn’t seem to want to harm Yuri’s already injured body. Some minutes passed and he started to braid his hair, failing miserably.

“Uh, Yura”

“Hmm?” Yuri tried to say a word but his face was buried in Otabek’s neck, so it came out as a weird sound.

“I think we have a problem here, my hands are stuck in your hair.”

“That’s fine, I like it” again, it sounded weird and muffled and ugly.

“Yeah, but my hands are literally stuck.”

“Fuck.”

They untangled his hair from Otabek’s fingers and Yuri teached him how to braid hair. Otabek started to braid his hair properly.

Yuri decided to let his hair grow as much as possible.

 

\---

 

The next day came sooner than he expected and Yuri woke up alone in his bed. He might have fallen asleep. Otabek was nowhere to be seen and his room was somehow organized. He probably fixed the mess in the room before returning to his own, just as he fixed the mess that was Yuri’s brain. He got up and started his day as he always did.

In a blink of an eye Yuri was dressed up to perform his free skate program. He was nervous, you could see his pupils shrinking, his hands were shaking imperceptibly, and he had problems breathing. His rivals approached him to wish him good luck, but he couldn’t hear a single thing.

 

The pressure to be the very best and to overpass Viktor’s records was too much to handle. His tiny body couldn’t take it. Suddenly, Yuri’s mind was flooded with images. He remembered practicing alone when he was a child, he remembered the moment when he turned to be the main provider for his family, his first competitions. The day he met Viktor and how he promised to produce his program; the day when Viktor forgot about him and flew all the way to Japan. The day when he scared the shit out of Yuuri; the day when Yuuri didn’t recall him at all.

He was insignificant, just a fluff in life’s shirt. He was despicable  — made himself despicable — and he hated himself for it. At the same time there were people out there telling him that he was a new living legend, that he was the future of russian figure skating. He didn’t believe a single thing, he’d still feel miserable. He was looking for something, maybe someone to scream at like he always did. He went numbly towards the side of the door, and as Otabek passed next to him he felt a hand messing with his hair.

“Smash us, Yura.”

Suddenly everything felt better and Yuri was relieved to have somebody by his side. Not because of interests, nor family bonds, but just because he wants. Yuri turned around and stared at Otabek as he fixed his sleeve.

“Beka…” started Yuri.

“Tell me.”

Yuri could see his rivals looking from the distance which made him feel a bit anxious. They were all waiting for the free skate phase to start, their coaches were paying attention to the TV as the announcers talked about yesterday’s results while they were joking between eachother and looking at Yuri. Were they making fun of him? “We should repeat the pizza, and the rest of it, you know? If you want,” he said, doubtfully.

Otabek fixed his other sleeve, paused, and then answered: “Whoever gets in second place in between us has to pay for the pizza tonight, got it?”

“Got it. Start prepping your wallet then.”

“Sure, whatever you say, Yuratchka.” Otabek looked right into Yuri’s eyes, he could see a hue of playfulness in his black eyes.

Yuri stayed still next to the door as Otabek walked out. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have a friend like Otabek, he was the type of guy you want to spend as much time as possible with. He was the most relaxed person he’d ever met and complemented his rage-filled personality. They were two sides of the same coin. Both of them had had a hard time living, neither of them had never had any true friend, both of them were mysteries to the rest of the world. Both of them couldn’t give a care about it.

Yuri didn’t care if his rivals looked at or talked about him, he had a friend now and he was happy about it. “I really like to have you as a friend, Beka.”

“I’m glad to have you in my life too, Yura,” Otabek said while walking away to the rink.

Yuri stood still, smiling like a fool. He was  _ glad to have him in his life _ , how fucking poetic and Otabek of him to say that.

 

\---

 

Yuri was already next to the rink, and he knew Yakov and Lilia were saying stuff to him, but he couldn’t place their voices. He was bombarded by good feelings.

Suddenly he didn’t feel the pressure to be the very best, better than living-legend Viktor Nikiforov; he didn’t feel like he needed to be the Ice Tiger of Russia, he didn’t even care if he won at all, he wanted to skate and kick Beka’s ass so he wouldn’t have to pay for the pizza tonight. Yuuri Katsuki passed next to him and wished him luck, to which he answered with a smile and a low “Thank you, Katsudon”.

Yuri could see the shocked face Yuuri pulled, and laughed under his breath. He saw how Yuuri practically ran towards the rest of the skaters to tell how polite Yuri had been to him. It was ok, not even himself could believe what he had just done.

Then Phichit Chulanont ran towards him, selfie stick in hand, and asked him for a selfie. Yuri chuckled, and gave the cellphone the best cat-ears-made-with-hands-while-looking-adorable-as-fuck pose he could. Phichit then hugged him and wished him good luck. He didn’t care if he was acting weird. He was happy, so what?

 

Otabek had slayed the free skate program and as he was walking out the rink they locked eyes. Otabek’s sight wondered around Yuri’s face, and landed on his neck, where a date was written in pitch black. Yuri froze, he suddenly felt self-conscious of doing what he did. Was it too soon? He felt ridiculous for doing such a cheesy thing. It was worse than watching lovebirds Yuuri and Victor fooling around everywhere. This was stupid, and a really bad idea. Yuri looked down, and thought that he probably still had time to erase it. He lifted his gaze. Otabek looked back at Yuri’s eyes and again, showed a weak smile. Yuri blushed.

“Who wrote that for you, Yura?” Otabek asked, still grinning.

“I-I did it myself.” he answered, hesitant.

“Well, either you have bad handwriting or you need help next time, that six looks weak,” Otabek joked.

“Right, whatever,” Yuri said, and after a moment of silence he continued: “But can you at least appreciate it a little?”

“I do appreciate it, Yura.” His name escaped Otabek’s mouth in the sound of a whisper, almost as if it was a secret only they knew. Yuri felt pain in his lungs. Not a bad pain as when he trains non-stop for hours, but a good, warm burn. “I appreciate it more than you think,  _ davay _ _. _ ” said the kazakh guy, and then proceeded to the kiss and cry.

 

Yuri actually didn’t know if this was right for friends to do, to share this type of secrets. It was a date he’ll never forget and he was sure as hell Otabek wouldn’t forget neither.

Yuri went to the center of the rink and started performing. He felt free, not alone for the first time ever. He had met someone whom he doesn’t actually need to impress to keep by his side. And that someone was now looking at him with pride in his eyes.

The whole world revolved around the cryptic date written on his neck. Everybody thought he wrote it to commemorate the day he broke his first record, but he couldn’t care less about a record or two.

It was the day he had met the only friend he’ll ever need in his life. And they both knew that this was the start of something amazing.

That night Otabek payed for the pizza, again. Yuri found out about a sequel to the last movie he watched, and forced Otabek to watch it with him.

 

\---

 

As the years came by Yuri Plisetsky's hair grew longer. He liked the weight of it, how it swayed while he skated, and how it reminded him of his good friend. He still had to hear Victor rumble about how Yuri’s hair change was because of his teenage days.

“Well, can’t blame him, he wants to be just like his number one idol” Victor would say, fooling around with Yuri’s hair.

“But, Yurio” Yuuri would answer “I thought  _ I  _ was your idol?”   
“Shut up, neither of you are my idols” Yuri would spat, already done with their shit.

“Yeah, you’re right” Yuuri would say, followed by Victor’s “we’re your parents.”

“Fuck.  _ Off. _ ”

 

Beka, Agape; those two words just turned into synonymous. Whenever he felt alone or tired of everything he would just put his skates on and perform Agape That made everything feel better. He was still so thankful to Victor for offering such a masterpiece for Yuri to skate on his senior debut.

Yuri and Otabek couldn’t be together a lot but when they did, be it for a competition, or holiday, or mere luck to be in the same city at the same time, they'd end up eating pizza in one’s hotel room; Beka would braid Yuri's hair and get tangled on it, just for Yuri to untangle it and fall asleep over him.

With time, Beka became really good at braiding, and would braid his hair when Yuri wasn't even paying attention. He loved the feeling of his strong fingers untangling his knots, gently tugging some locks to get them to work perfectly into a beautiful piece of art. It made him feel safe and sound. While alone and braiding, Otabek used to hum the songs of their skating programs and Yuri would say  _ “and here is where you make that triple axel” _ ,  _ “in this part is where I slay my quadruple toe-loop”, “here comes your flawless step sequence”.  _ Sometimes Yuri would sing the lyrics if the songs weren’t fully instrumental. Yuri loved it with every inch of his soul. It was a thing they had.

 

As well as the cryptic messages on their skin. At first Yuri thought it would be a one time thing. When he wrote that date on his neck it was meant as an acknowledgement. A little message only for his friend to decode and understand. What he wouldn't expect is what happened a couple months later, when he was back at St. Petersburg with his rinkmates, watching the Four Continents Championship. Otabek was competing that year and he was so proud of his friend. They used to text eachother words of encouragement, from a short  _ davay  _ to long texts, or voice messages. That day, he had texted Beka to know at what time he would skate.

When Beka stepped into the ice, he could see a little marking in the back of his hand. It was too blurry to see from the camera’s angle; but soon enough the camera changed and the reporter commented about it:

_ "It seems like Grand Prix's Finalist Otabek Altin got himself a tattoo?” _

_ “It says ‘beginning’.” _

_ “Oh wait. I've just been informed is not actually a tattoo but--" _

Yuri couldn't believe what he was hearing, he froze. His rinkmates were confused, they asked themselves what would that mean. But he was sure as hell he knew the meaning behind it, and his heart was beating as fast as it beat while in the middle of a performance. He was unable to speak. He just stared at the screen in total awe and admiration, reached for his phone and texted Beka "You,  _ идиот _ ". He was happy, Otabek meant the world to him and to see such a demonstration of gratitude made him squeal internally. Later that day they decided to keep it as a little secret between both of them. And even if the rest of the world found out, no one but them would know what those messages actually mean.

They kept sending secret messages through their skin. Some of them would be inside jokes, like that one time they wrote  _ ‘Memo’ _ and  _ ‘Vevo’ _ as a reminder of the first pizza night they ever had. Other messages would be of them saying the things they can’t say face-to-face to eachother through skin -mostly coming from Otabek-, just little simple words filled with meaning Yuri couldn’t quite get like  _ ‘beautiful’ ‘magic’ _ and  _ ‘sweet’. _

 

Whenever they coincided in a competition they used to fight over who payed for pizza that night. Sometimes the duty to pay was simply given to the worst ranked, sometimes they challenged themselves to do certain stuff  — like friendly talk to people. But a majority of times they just decided by a simple rock paper scissors game, drawing their choice on their skin with a pen, only to be revealed during their program. Otabek realised that Yuri always chose rock at first so he started to choose paper to win everytime. That foolish game makes Yuri reminisce about how they first started as friends. He was cold and hard-shelled like a rock, and Otabek came to his life and gave him another way to see everything. It was as if Otabek was the layer of  _ something,  _ the layer of  _ Agape _ that was missing in Yuri’s life. Yuri started to open up to the world and the world started to see his true self. It was as if Yuri couldn’t see properly until Otabek came to him and gave him some sort of metaphorical glasses that made everything clearer.

  
  


\---

  
  


It was evening, and Yuri just got off a plane. This is the first time in five months that he was going to see Otabek in person. It’s been a long time and he misses him with every inch of his matter. Yuri misses his best friend so much it hurts. The only thing he can do now is reminisce about their friendship.

Like that one time they were at a NHK Trophy together and Otabek wrote on his neck  _ ‘smol kitten’,  _ a pet name he used to bother Yuri.

“You, dickhead,” Yuri said, pissed “you’re lucky that my knife-shoes are protected otherwise I would have chopped up your head”

“Oh, so the smol kitten is mad now?” Otabek joked, while ducking away from Yuri’s fists. “They’re not knife-shoes, they’re called skates. You better have a witty comeback to this don’t you,  _ Yuuuura _ ?”

“Fuck you, man.”

“Oh, you can’t find anything to say. What a shame.” Otabek was giggling. Yuri couldn’t believe how childish he could be sometimes. He was the older one here, right?

“Of course I have a response. And they’re knife-shoes if I do say so myself.” stated Yuri, he was mad. He hated that pet name but at the same time it gave him a good feeling he couldn’t put his finger on.

“Right, right. We’ll see, Yura.”

Yuri saw Otabek walking out the rink triumphant, looking for a response on his skin, and when he didn’t find any he started laughing. Yuri got  _ pissed _ . The next day he remembered that Otabek’s all time favourite pizza topping is  _ pineapples. _

“Yo, Beks!” the russian punk yelled “I might be a smol kitten but at least I dont like  _ hawaiian pizza _ , you’re absolutely gross.”

“Hawaiian pizza is the best pizza, I don’t know what you mean Yura.” Otabek answered indifferent.

So Yuri didn’t have a better idea than to write  _ ‘hawaiian pizza’ _ on his skin. It went all wrong, he played himself like a pro. Yuri’s Angels started to flood him with boxes and boxes of hawaiian pizza wherever he’d go. When Otabek found out he couldn’t stop laughing. Still to this day Otabek remembers that incident and loses his shit while Yuri stares at him with his eyes filled with playful rage.

He loves that man, and it feels strange. It actually isn’t a specific feeling, it is just  _ weird _ . It isn’t wrong or right, it just  _ is. _ He just knows that he loves Otabek -not fully nor romantically, not even fraternally-, he loves him just as love is. It might be because the emotion isn’t fully developed between them, Yuri wouldn’t know what to do if something happens someday.

 

Now, being twenty years old, he can say that he has his own group of friends. The  _ sk8skwad _ integrated by all figure skaters from his coach Yuuri Katsuki to little-ray-of-sunshine Kenjirou Minami.

Yuri still remembers his last birthday -he was at Victor and Yuuri’s place with his rinkmates from St. Petesburg watching a competition, he can’t recall which one-. Otabek participated in it and wrote  _ ‘Agape’ _ on his collarbone, that way people realised what they both have been doing all along. Every time he remembers that day he’s invaded by warmth and a strong feeling of fuzziness deep into his heart. He revives the moment when everybody looked at the TV, looked back at Yuri, and back at the TV just to look back again at Yuri and  _ screech. _

 

He’s now lying on the floor with his back resting against the hotel bed, Otabek is facing him and he’s letting Yuri write silly things on his arms. They are at yet another Grand Prix Final together and they are having one of their pizza nights, this time alone because the rest of the squad wanted to go out and have fun. They are talking about lovers. Yuri told Otabek about his first and only lover he’s ever had. A cute girl named Evgenia, two years older than him, that he met at a junior competition. Yuri remembers her as a beautiful brunette with deep brown eyes. She is cheerful, loves anime and she introduced him to Yuuri Katsuki, who became a big chunk of influence to him overtime and is now his coach. She still skates professionally and they still meet at some competitions.

“So you still see each other, huh? You can try again if you want to” Otabek says while grabbing a slice of anchovy pizza, their favorite in common. “I mean, I know who she is. She’s somewhat cute.”

“Yeah, she is. But…” Yuri starts to draw a cat on Otabek’s left arm “I’m not interested in her anymore.”

“Why?”

“Because…” Yuri has to look down, he’s blushing. He wants to hide under a rock as he says “I might be in love with somebody else, you know. He’s nice.”

“He? Do I know him? Would you like me to chaperon you?” Otabek looks intrigued, he’s devouring Yuri’s eyes with curiosity.

“Nah, it’s fine. Like, it’s never gonna happen. He’s too nice for me.” Yuri draws a little chat bubble next to the cat and writes ’ _meow_ ’ inside of it. He stays still.

“Why would you say that? Yura you’re lovely, you deserve the best things the world has to offer you. You’re funny and smart, and you’re such a good human being. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met, and I’m not saying that because you can pick me off the ground. You’re a strong soul.” Otabek is talking fast, he’d never rushed his words before.

“Beka...” Yuri is shocked, at a loss of words.

“Also you’re handsome as hell, have you ever looked at yourself on the mirror? Seriously, people turn their heads whenever you come into a room. Sometimes it seems as if you were the center of the world and everything kind of spins around and makes me dizzy, and also you’re oh so sweet.” Otabek pauses, trying to catch a breath. Yuri’s heart is about to burst. Otabek’s face suddenly turns red in terror “Uh-uhm.” He is looking anywhere but Yuri’s direction. “Anyways, you’re wonderful and I’m so sick of hearing you say such bad and derogatory comments about yourself. Learn to love yourself Yura, people are dying to get into your heart.”

“Beka,” Yuri whispers, as he feels goosebumps up to his neck.

“Just listen to me, but don’t listen to me. You know I tend to maunder a lot,” Otabek states, and clears his throat.

 

Otabek looks nervous, shy. Yuri’s never seen him like this before. He can’t believe what he had just heard. Did Otabek just confessed to Yuri? Since when did he feel this way about him? Yuri’s heart is beating so fast he feels as if he’s going to have a heart attack at any moment. What’s going on? Yuri can see Otabek’s blushed face trying to gain composure after what seemed like a rollercoaster of emotions. He never talked fast, never stumbled upon words, but this time… This is different. Everything is different between them and Yuri thought he was the only one seeing that. Apparently he isn’t the only one who feels this strange connection, this force that pulls them together even more with each time they meet. This  _ love  _ feeling he’s been having for ages finally has an actual foundation, this feeling is fully developed and it’s reciprocal. This was all he needed to confirm that Yuri  _ loves  _ Otabek with all his might. Yuri felt bliss for a second, he can’t believe this is actually happening.

So they stay silent and Yuri goes back into drawing and writing nonsense on Otabek’s arms. Otabek is paying full attention to the pen moving gracefully over his tanned skin. When Yuri reaches his hands, he then proceeds to sit next to Otabek, and with shaking hands and harsh breathing he writes two simple words, one in each hand.

_ “Date me?” _

 

Yuri stares at Otabek’s face, expectant. He can’t believe what he had just done. This ship could either sail or go to wreck and he’s not ready for any of the possible options. Yuri saw Otabek reading the words over and over. Time stood still while Otabek gained enough strength to look up to Yuri’s eyes, smile, and say “I’ve been waiting a long time for you to ask me that, Yura.”

**Author's Note:**

> This little story was written after my all time favourite parents: Gerard and Lindsay Way.  
> I took the idea of the writing on the skin from their Projekt Revolution phase (in which they wrote little messages to the other through skin). Gaaah, I love them so much.  
> I wouldn't have written this without the help and (healthy) pressure of my comrade, my pal my homie Agus so there's that.  
> You can follow me on tumblr where I reblog anime bullshit and talk about my life idk its savaxth just like my username here, heh.


End file.
